


One Step Beyond Logic

by vega_voices



Series: One Step Beyond Logic [1]
Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-11
Updated: 2010-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><i>His logical mind argued that after Mary got bored, she’d be available again and what then?  Would he stay with Emily out of spite or out of love or would it ever matter anyway? </i></p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**Fic - One Step Beyond Logic (Ch. 1)**_  
 **Series:** One Step Beyond Logic  
 **Chapter One:** Muddy Cowgirl  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Marshall/OFC  
 **Timeframe:** Post 3rd Season Finale  
 **Rating:** Adult  
 **A/N:** I blame [](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/profile)[**irishhusky**](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/) for this. While [](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/profile)[**mary_marshall**](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/) was rewatching, I was writing. If she hadn’t posted with that soccer icon, NONE of this would have happened. But we’ve all said Marshall needs to move on and figure himself out. This is one way it could happen.  
 **Disclaimer:** Mary belongs to Marshall, but she doesn't realize it. Marshall belongs to Mary, and he knows it. Amy belongs to me. In Plain Sight belongs to people who need to hire me, but until they do, I just write fic and make no money from it.

It happened suddenly, and suddenly wasn’t something he was used to. Jogging through the park Saturday morning, trying to stave off the hangover leftover from his dance with the whiskey bottle the night before, Marshall ducked around excited kids kicking soccer balls around the fields and through the occasional basketball pickup game. His head hurt, his heart ached, and he still had trouble breathing.

Mary had kicked him too hard this time, but it was his own damned fault. He was like Charlie Brown, always giving into Lucy’s promise that she wouldn’t rip the football away. And, as always, he landed flat on his back.

The laughter of adults caught his ear and he turned his head, slowing his jog to a walk. Before him were ten women, all in various stages of work-out apparel, kicking a soccer ball through the mud of a recently watered field.

His brain promptly imploded.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but think, it really was all lingerie and pillow fights.

Closest to him, a tall woman with some kind of Asian features caught his attention. Her white sports bra was soaked from the sprinkler and he caught the shadow of her breast through the material. The soccer ball rolled to a stop next to him and he kicked it back with a slow smirk. She returned the look and darted back to her friends.

Marshall couldn’t help but watch.

It was just a pickup game; ten friends having fun. Around the edge of the field, a few friends and boyfriends watched. Marshall stayed put, entranced by the beautiful soccer playing creature. And a creature she was. All long legs and slender arms. Long, lean stomach and black hair that fell in curly waves around her shoulders when she removed her ponytail holder. She was beautiful, entrancing, passionate. Marshall was completely turned on. When she flashed a smile at him over her shoulder, he stayed, waiting. Feral instinct translating her look.

His instinct was right.

They barely made it to his truck. Tumbling into the back, lips and legs entangled, he had her shorts down around her knees and his cock poking at her entrance before he realized he didn’t even know her name. She kissed him again and he didn’t care. Logic screamed at him. All it would take was one smart park cop to ruin his career. But she was beautiful and wet and he was horny and hard and needed to bury his sadness inside a willing cowgirl. For the first time in his life, he realized just how much he needed to do what Mary needed to stop doing.

It didn’t last long and some rational part of his brain thought to reach between them to help her along in the process. In less than five minutes they were done, sweating and groaning and she whimpered as he flipped a finger across her clit one last time and she came. It wasn’t the most mind blowing moment of his life and he knew it wouldn’t rank high on her list either, but when she looked up at him, she grinned.

“My name is Amy.”

“Marshall.”

“I never do things like this.”

“Me either.”

“Want to put our pants back on and go grab a muffin or something?”

He laughed and nodded and bent to kiss her neck, slowly, tasting her sweat and smelling their mutual arousal. “Better yet, why don’t you come back to my place. I have muffins. And a comfortable bed.”

She arched against him. “Sounds like a plan.” Marshall smiled. He pulled back and, his sense of decorum restored, tugged Amy’s shorts back up around her hips. They looked at each other, blushing like teenagers, and carefully moved to the front seat of the truck. He drove toward his place, his hand high on her alabaster thigh, wanting to know more about her but hating to break the spell. To ask questions would mean they needed to know more than each other’s names. This morning, they were each other’s cowboy. He never needed to see her again. It wasn’t like him, to bury his emotions in the living body of another person, but to heal from Mary, he needed to do things he wasn’t likely to do.

His hand moved higher, moving her shorts aside, and she laughed lightly and spread her legs.

“Apparently, you’re trustworthy. I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”

It hit him, suddenly, that he’d taken a woman without any since of finesse. It was a porn movie, a plot that made no sense. How trustworthy was he? To take her into his car and pump away inside of her with children playing not twenty feet away? To not even stop and fumble in his wallet for the condom he kept? To be stroking her now while he drove? She was still wet, ready, and by the time he pulled into his driveway his fingers had dipped again into her body. With regret he pulled his fingers out, put his car in park, and led her inside.

Somehow, they made it into his bedroom. Now, he took his time, tugging her bra and t shirt from her body, nestling his face between her breasts. She smelled of cut grass and mud and sweat and the mingled scent of their earlier coupling. Amy, he reminded himself, her name was Amy. And she was lithe and long and she played soccer. They fell together onto his bed, shrugging out of the rest of their clothes and this time he explored her body, finding a small scar that looked like a bullet wound under her rib cage. There was a birthmark shaped like a strawberry on her upper thigh and a beauty mark right where her pubic hair dusted into fuzz. She tasted like pineapple and sex and when she came, she tugged on his hair and screamed his name.

“Where are the condoms?” She asked, moaning as he crept up her body. He retrieved one from the bedside table and she took it from his hand and rolled him to his back. “I give a damn good blowjob,” she murmured as she rolled the latex down his cock, “and later, I’ll perform for you. Right now, I just want this.”

Like he was going to complain.

She slid onto him and stilled. Their eyes locked and for a moment, Marshall imagined this going beyond a frenzied Saturday morning. But his daydreams of companionship blew away as she started to move, riding him, and he guided her hips and stroked her clit until she playfully swatted him away. “This one is for you, cowboy.” He wanted to hate the term. He didn’t. When he exploded and she sank onto his chest, gasping, sweaty, he wanted her to stay. “You promised me muffins,” Amy whispered.

“I did.”

They both winced when he pulled out of her and the way she took the condom to dispose of it only turned him on all over again.

***

  
She emerged from the bedroom dressed in her shorts and a t-shirt he’d left out for her. Beneath the cotton, her breasts swayed invitingly. Her eyes scanned his townhouse, taking in the geekdom he’d mixed with more tasteful décor, and she cocked a grin when she spied the muffin from Whiz’s Keep on Muffin bakery.

“You can’t be totally creepy if you like that place.”

“Or, it only adds to my creepiness.”

“That too.” She laughed lightly and shook her head. “So, Marshall, tell me something about yourself. Other than the fact that you’ve got something to be proud of in the bedroom. And if you have a girlfriend, lie to me.”

The idea of having a girlfriend weighed his heart but he only handed her a mug of coffee. “No girlfriend, and I’m telling you the truth. And I’m a man of many layers.”

“Well, pick one.” She smirked and he leaned against the counter and stared at her legs, legs he planned to have wrapped around him again as soon as his body recovered.

“I’m a US Marshal.”

“No shit.” She laughed. “I just transferred to the Albuquerque FBI field office.”

Fuck. Marshall groaned inwardly. So much for the clean break he wanted when today was done. They were bound to meet again. Amy must have seen the panic in his eyes and smirked. “Don’t worry. Whatever happens here today will be our little secret, Inspector.”

He had to laugh. “Thank you, Agent.” How ironic. With Faber chasing Mary, Marshall had found himself his own agent. “So tell me more about yourself, Special Agent Amy. Other than the fact that you like soccer and you felt I was trustworthy enough to risk your day like this.”

She shrugged and smiled. “Careful. Real conversation might turn into something else. Because you have my favorite book on your shelf and I’ve seen the new Star Trek movie seventeen times. I buy my coffee the same place you buy yours and I spend way too much time in funky little bakeries that sell Cookie Monster muffins. You sure you want to risk actually getting attached to me?” The silence in the kitchen bothered him. She’d read his mind and he wasn’t sure he liked it. She was beautiful. A perfect Saturday fuck. And then they never needed to speak of it again. But he liked her. “That’s what I thought.” Amy set the coffee and muffin aside and stepped closer to him, pressing him back into the counter. “It’s okay, Marshall. I’m not sure I want anything else either.” Her hand snaked into his sweat pants and pushed them down while she sank to her knees and nuzzled his half-erect penis with her nose.

One day. One day to clear Mary out of his system and then he’d be fine.

That was all he needed.

Amy’s mouth closing over him drove all rational thought from his head.

***

  
By the time Mary got back from Mexico, he’d forgiven her the fears she never seemed to shake. She didn’t tell him who had joined her, though he had a feeling and somehow it was okay. But her grumblings about life were actually pleasant and amusing again and there was a sparkle in her eye even when she mocked witnesses and rolled her eyes at Theresa. She teased him about getting laid while she was gone but he didn’t reveal his secrets. He didn’t need to. Despite exchanging numbers when he’d dropped her back at her car, he hadn’t heard from Amy, and he was okay with that. What they’d had had been what they both needed. It worked. He felt better.

The vibrating of his phone caught him by surprise and he glanced up from the movie, expecting it to be Mary, wanting company. But it wasn’t. He paused, staring at the name, wondering if it was worth it to answer. He’d only wanted that one day. As cool as Amy was, he wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship. But it had been two weeks, so it wasn’t like she was pursuing him.

“Hi …” he forced his voice to stay calm. If she wanted to get together, he wouldn’t complain. The sex was good. She was funny. It wasn’t a real relationship. Fuck buddies. It felt good to think that.

“Hi, Marshall.” She sounded nervous. “I’m sorry. I know we pretty much left each other not expecting to talk again.”

“It’s okay. What … what’s up?” A sudden fear gripped him, a memory of them tumbling into the back seat of his truck and the five minutes it took for both of them to collapse around each other. It couldn’t be. His life was not that clichéd.

“Look, I hate to do this to you, but we need to talk.”

The fear rippled from his stomach down to his groin and his brain instantly began lecturing his balls about things like protection. He told himself he was over reacting, but logic told him better. If she wanted a booty call, she’d have shown up at his door with muffins.

“Amy.” He breathed her name and stood up, turning off the movie and heading for his car keys. “Where are you? I’ll come to you.” She gave her address. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Thanks.”

Somehow he couldn’t stay on the phone with her. He needed the silence. Needed to prepare himself for what she was going to tell him. Needed to accept whatever she threw at him. Needed to reconcile his logical reasoning with his own urges for children. He wanted them, but he wasn’t sure he wanted one with someone he barely knew.

Maybe he was overreacting. She hadn’t said anything specific. Just that she needed to talk to him. But Marshall knew better.

 _TBC …_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Fic - One Step Beyond Logic (Ch 2.)**_  
 **Series:** One Step Beyond Logic  
 **Chapter Two:** Responsibility  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Marshall/OFC; Mentions of Mary/Faber; Eventual Mary/Marshall  
 **Timeframe:** Post 3rd Season Finale  
 **Rating:** Adult  
 **A/N:** I blame [](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/profile)[**irishhusky**](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/) for this. While [](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/profile)[**mary_marshall**](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/) was rewatching, I was writing. If she hadn’t posted with that soccer icon, NONE of this would have happened. But we’ve all said Marshall needs to move on and figure himself out. This is one way it could happen.  
 **Disclaimer:** Mary belongs to Marshall, but she doesn't realize it. Marshall belongs to Mary, and he knows it. Amy belongs to me. In Plain Sight belongs to people who need to hire me, but until they do, I just write fic and make no money from it.

 _Marshall, I’m pregnant. I don’t expect anything from you, I don’t even know if I want anything from you right now. But I wanted you to know._

He stared at his phone, Amy’s words echoing over and over in his head. The waitress had refilled his coffee three times and the cheese on his fries had long since congealed but all he heard was Amy’s trembling tone while she folded herself into his arms. When he’d kissed her, it had been tender but final.

Reality danced somewhere outside the door. A world of diapers and two am feedings. A place where fathers went to sonograms and daddy's took their kids to soccer practice. A world Amy wasn’t sure she wanted him to be a part of.

 _I don’t even know if I’m keeping the baby._

 _Do I get to have a say? At all?_

 _Marshall, we fucked. We fucked like little bunnies, but it was all it was. We didn’t leave each other with any other demands._

She was right. He hated that she was right. He hated that she’d let him know at all, but he knew that because she told him, she was keeping it. Mary had gone to Mexico and been well laid. He’d gone to the park and got someone pregnant. Really, someone upstairs was fucking with him.

There was movement in front of him and he looked up, ready to wave the waitress away, but it was Mary, sliding into the booth and motioning for a cup of coffee. She did not speak until it was delivered and the waitress again busy elsewhere.

“What’s wrong?”

What bothered him most was that for all her bullshit, Mary was still his best friend. She could still read him better than anyone else and even when she was at her most heartless she still knew when (usually) to tune into her humanity and actually talk to him. As long, of course, as it didn’t involve their feelings toward each other.

So he stared at her, wondering how she’d react. He was a father now. A father thanks to one day of rolling around his townhouse with a woman he barely knew. Twelve years of Catholic School Guilt surged through him and he wanted to do the honorable thing and run back to Amy’s and demand marriage. Lucky for him, it wasn’t 1969.

He wondered how his mother felt about his father all these years later. If he hadn’t come along, would she have still married his father?

“I met someone while you were away.” The words were metallic in his mouth. He sipped his coffee and gagged on the bitter taste and realized, suddenly, he was about to vomit. Barely making it outside, he emptied the contents of his stomach into the bushes. Mary came out behind him after a moment, shoving change from a twenty into her pocket. That she didn’t let him know how much he owed her only brought tears to his eyes.

If only she knew that he owed her everything. Everything.

“Come on, Mann,” she slipped an arm around him and walked him back to his truck. Fishing the keys from his pocket, she deposited him in the back seat and drove to his place. His back seat. The one that still smelled of him and Amy and the mistake they’d made. In his living room, he stared at Mary and she stared back. And he told her everything.

Mary sat perfectly still. Listening. Her hands pressed together, her knuckles completely white. He recognized the tension and the rage and even the jealousy that surged through her and a part of him relished the idea that for once, she was jealous. It wasn’t just that she wanted to be the center of his world, but she ached for something they couldn’t share. He wanted to comfort her, but needed her comfort more. And for once, she gave it. She moved to the couch and slid her arms around him and held him.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Marshall?”

He laughed, bitterly, and looked at her. “I wasn’t. I was thinking that you were in Mexico and no matter what I said to you, you were going to make stupid decisions and I couldn’t save you, even from yourself. So I went and found a cowgirl of my own.”

She was silent. He was bitter. But her head never left his shoulder and he basked in the contact. Under his anger, he still wanted his partner to love him like he loved her. And he hoped she wouldn’t apologize. It was the last thing he needed.

She didn’t.

Mary shook her head. “Nothing like a stupid moment between two people to make you feel sixteen again?”

Suddenly, he started to chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Mary was right. “The last thing I want is my dad to find out.” She giggled. His chuckle flowed into a full fledged belly laugh. “My mother,” he gasped out the words, “will demand my return to church while she prays for my soul. Somehow, I think she thinks I’m still a virgin.”

Linking their fingers, Mary just leaned into him, still laughing. “Really, Marshall?”

“I’m the only one still not married. So I’m either a virgin or I’m gay and well, they don’t dare suggest that.”

“Are you?”

“What, gay?”

“No, a virgin.”

He just looked at her. She smirked and stood up. “I’m gonna get you a beer.”

“And then what?”

“You’ll figure it out, Marshall. And I’ll help.” She shrugged out of her jacket and dropped it on the chair. “It’s what partners are for.”

***

  
He felt sixteen again. Staring at the front door of the apartment, he balanced the bakery box in his hands, hoping to god that some other man wouldn’t answer the door. Of course, he almost wanted it to happen. Then he would be released from this duty he’d never actually expected to manifest for himself.

“Who is it?” The familiar voice called through the door.

“Land shark,” came his joking reply.

He heard the sigh but when Amy opened the door, she was smiling. “Marshall …”

“No, land shark.” He handed her the box and stepped into the apartment. She did not close the door behind him.

“I didn’t call you.”

“You didn’t need to.”

“Marshall …” they stared at each other and he dropped his eyes to her stomach. “Marshall, I told you that whatever decision I made you didn’t need to be a part of it.”

“See, that’s where you lied to me.” He tilted his head at her and raised a finger. “If you didn’t want me to be a part of it, you wouldn’t have called.”

“Marshall …”

“Amy, I know you’re going to keep the baby.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you told me about it.”

Again silence. Again, they stared at each other.

“I’m not looking for a hero, Marshall. Or a boyfriend. Or a husband.”

“That’s good because as beautiful as you are, as wonderful as you are, you are right. We had a really great day together, that's all. This isn’t 1969, Amy. We don’t need to get married. But that _is_ my baby you’re carrying. So I’m going to be here.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a check. “And I’m going to support this child.”

“Marshall! No, I don’t –“

“I don’t care if you just open a savings account and put it all toward a college fund, okay. But I want to be involved.” He softened. “Please.”

The stalemate lasted a few more moments before she took the check and stared at it. “Marshall …”

“I know the going rate for child support.”

“You have your own life. I can’t …”

“This baby is part of my life now.” He glanced around the apartment and shrugged. “You gonna let me all the way in so we can talk or are we going to stand here in the foyer with the door open, letting out all your cold air?”

Amy sighed and shrugged and stepped back. He kicked the door closed behind him and followed her into the kitchen. “I should throw you out.”

“You don’t want to.” He leaned against the inner doorway and watched her slide the bakery box onto the top of her fridge. “You want to talk about it and let me know that you feel like an idiot for what we did and you still can’t believe that you’re keeping the baby.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s how I feel.”

Amy sighed and rubbed her neck. “Land shark?”

“Classic SNL.”

“I know. But why land shark?”

“Because you wouldn’t have answered the door for Spock.”

She stared at him for a long time and then started to laugh. “You doing anything the rest of the day?”

“It’s Saturday. My only plans are avoiding the office. Which means I just jinxed it.”

“There’s a Hitchcock festival on A&E. Feel like hanging out until you get paged?” She nodded to the fridge. “I’ve got muffins.”

Marshall smiled and held out his hand. Amy took it. “Sure.”

 _TBC …_


	3. Fic - One Step Beyond Logic (Ch. 3)

_**Fic - One Step Beyond Logic (Ch. 3)**_  
 **Series:** One Step Beyond Logic  
 **Chapter Three:** At the Party  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Marshall/OFC; Mentions of Mary/Faber; Eventual Mary/Marshall  
 **Timeframe:** Post 3rd Season Finale  
 **Rating:** Adult  
 **A/N:** I blame [](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/profile)[**irishhusky**](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/) for this. While [](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/profile)[**mary_marshall**](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/) was rewatching, I was writing. If she hadn’t posted with that soccer icon, NONE of this would have happened. But we’ve all said Marshall needs to move on and figure himself out. This is one way it could happen. And this chapter comes so quickly because a couple of you were threatening my life ... of course, you may kill me even more.  
 **Disclaimer:** Mary belongs to Marshall, but she doesn't realize it. Marshall belongs to Mary, and he knows it. Amy, Jack, and Emily belong to me. In Plain Sight belongs to people who need to hire me, but until they do, I just write fic and make no money from it.

“Hi, Marshall! Come join the party.” Amy’s light voice carried him through the shaded back yard to the grill where Jack Anderson was laying chicken breasts and sliced pineapple on the fire. Amy stretched out on a chaise lounge, protected by the shade of the arbor. Around them, fellow marshals, agents, and Amy’s friends mingled, all holding sweating beers and bottles of water. In the shade it was over one hundred degrees. He didn’t want to think about how hot it was near the fire.

Amy bounded up from her lounge and wrapped her arms around him. In just the last couple of weeks, she’d gone from still flat bellied to showing, just slightly. Her tank top was looser than he knew she preferred and her breasts nearly spilled free from her bra. He kissed her cheek in greeting and then held out a hand to Jack, who grunted his own hello.

Jack Anderson owned a local Play it Again Sports franchise and had met Amy when she wandered in, looking for information on playing sports while pregnant. They’d been inseparable ever since. Marshall liked the business man; he was cheerful and conversational, but always to the point. His openness toward Amy’s pregnancy and Marshall’s involvement in her life eased his worries although when he saw the way Amy and Jack were together, he saw a future where he’d be signing over his parental rights to the other man. But not any time soon.

“My sister is sending a box of toys for the new nursery.” This was Amy’s housewarming party. She’d realized very quickly she couldn’t raise a child in a one bedroom environment and so despite the mess of the housing market, she’d purchased a comfortable ranch house, at the other end of Mary’s neighborhood. “She says that you shouldn’t mind having a box of army figures and guns for a little girl considering your own line of work.”

“God, watch me have some pink-wearing dancing princess.” Amy rolled her eyes. “I really won’t know what to do with myself.”

“That’s why she has me.” Jack laughed and closed the grill and offered a real hello to Marshall, who returned the greeting. “I’m trying to get her to decide on a name.”

“No! Naming the baby before she’s born is bad luck.”

“I have no idea where you got that superstition, but it really cuts down on my fun.”

Amy smirked and reached into the cooler for another bottle of water. “He’s just mad because whenever he buys me a new baby-book, I get snippy. Really, like my girlfriends haven’t loaded me up enough.” With a grin, Amy linked her fingers with Marshall’s, “Where’s your partner? You promised me she’d eventually cross my path. What, am I her black cat or something?”

“She’s actually … out of town.” Marshall choked on the words. “Her …” he couldn’t say boyfriend. He couldn’t. Mike Faber was many things and Mary’s boyfriend he wasn’t. “She’s in Denver visiting a friend.”

“Her loss. But, it means it will be less awkward when I put my evil plan into action.” Amy’s eyes twinkled and Marshall groaned inwardly. That look seemed to get him into trouble.

“What evil plan?”

“Emily!” Amy waved over a petite woman with long red hair and bright blue eyes. “Em, this is Marshall. I told you about him. Now pounce.” She winked playfully and walked away. “Marshall, close your mouth.”

Emily rolled her own eyes and held out a hand. “I’m Emily. Amy has made it her singular passion to introduce us ever since I broke up with my boyfriend.”

She was cute, Marshall had to admit. Her small stature and slightly pointed ears gave her an elf-like quality. Her fingernails sparkled with a light pink polish, her toenails with purple. A black sarong wrapped around her waist like a skirt and a pale peach tank top accented an athletic, but still supple body. His eyes caught the simple pentacle around her neck and the multiple piercings in her ears. “I’m Marshall. I’m the idiot responsible for Amy’s condition.”

“She’s mentioned that.” Emily had a soft laugh and Marshall’s nerves at being pushed into the situation eased. “Actually, she’s said you’re a great guy who has no reason to be helping out financially or even caring about what happens to her or the baby but you’re right there and that’s really cool. If a bit awkward I’m sure.”

“We’ve made it work.” He blushed slightly. “So are you an agent with Amy or …?”

“No, I own Spellbound, the witch store down off Guadalupe. Amy and I were in the same soccer group for a while. Before some idiot knocked her up.” She winked. Marshall laughed and noticed the empty beer in her hand.

“Can I buy you another, Emily?”

“I’d love it. And get one for yourself, would you?” She grinned and Marshall started to breathe again.

***

  
“So what’s it like, owning a witch store?” They walked together through the streets of Old Town, carrying on a conversation they didn’t want to end when Amy’s housewarming party broke up. “Or do you hate that question?”

Emily laughed. It was light and musical and Marshall felt his heart twitch just a little bit. He only seemed to meet women when Mary was out of town and he hated that. Even worse, he hated thinking that his underlying reasons for wanting to spend more time with Emily were based in wanting to make Mary jealous, not because he truly appreciated her company. “There’s this old cartoon I saw in a free paper. The owner of the local witchy store is talking to an idiot. And he holds out a broom to her and asks her to make it fly. She chucks it across the room and then looks at him and asks, ‘Do you want me to make you fly next?’ That’s what it’s like. People don’t understand that Wicca and Druidism and the other Earth Based religions are real to people. That rocks and charms matter, just like statues of the Virgin and pictures of Temples matter to others. I don’t mind catering to the new agers and the fluffy bunnies. They pay my rent. But sometimes, I just want to throw people across the room.”

“That seems fair.” Casually, he linked their fingers and Emily smiled at him and held on. “Can I ask what you believe?”

“I’m a folky practitioner. I mix a little Wicca, a little Druidism, and since moving to New Mexico, I’ve added some Navajo beliefs to my way of life as well. The energy all comes from the same place in the end.” She paused and looked at him. “You, I am guessing, are a lapsed Catholic who is dealing with a hell of a lot of guilt after getting Amy pregnant.”

“You’re a psychic too, then?”

She grinned. “Just observant.” A comfortable coffee shop came into view and Emily led them inside, out of the heat. “It’s like you could spontaneously combust out there, even with the sun going down.”

“The joy of the desert.”

“Well, I’m from Portland. I’m still not used to it.”

Marshall chuckled. “What brought you here?”

“My gypsy nature. And an ex boyfriend who liked to beat the crap out of me. I figured I was safe in a place like this.”

The quiet admission saddened him. How one person could hurt another like that … but then again, he saw it every day with Mary. Her nature wasn’t naturally abusive, but her acerbic wit was enough to wound deeply with just a glance. Maybe he was more tired of it than he wanted to admit. “I’m glad you’re safe here, Emily.”

“Me too.” She looked up at the waitress and ordered some iced coffee that impressed him. He didn’t remember his own order, just that Emily was beautiful and smart and funny and neither Mary nor Amy. “So,” she looked at him and he again linked their fingers, “what’s it like being a US Marshal? Do you really kick down doors all day?”

“Mostly,” he shrugged, “we wait for the FBI to call us to do their dirty work. See, they don’t like getting their pant suits mucked up. We get to wear jeans and boots to work.”

Emily grinned flirtatiously. He returned it. It felt wonderful to not be in a tripped up conversation of sexual innuendo and trying to determine what Mary really meant by insult A or B. He hated that she was in Denver and he hated that he couldn’t really fall for Emily, not with his feelings for Mary as they were, but he liked this woman. She was comfortable, and right now, he needed that.

***

  
“So …” Mary watched her partner closely. It was almost the end of one of the longest days they’d faced and he still hadn’t answered her half-assed invitation for a movie and beer at her place. Truth was, she missed him. Even a day or two away from him and she missed his trivia and his geekdom and the way he made her coffee in the morning. And the more time she spent with Mike, the more she realized that it wasn’t going to take too much for the relationship, such as it was, to crash and burn in a fireball of gigantic proportions. “You want to come over or not?” He twitched. He was twitching. Dear God. The realization hit her and she choked on the words. “You have a date.” He had a date. Why did it bother her so much? It wasn’t like she’d ever laid any claim to him. But he had a date. A date. With someone who wasn’t Amy, she assumed. Last he’d told her, Amy was dating some jock.

“Yeah, actually.” He shuffled the papers on his desk. “Sorry, Mare. I want to catch up too. This weekend, okay?”

“Yeah.” She shook her head and then walked to his desk, perching on it. “Is she cute?”

But he didn’t shy away and stammer like she expected. “She’s beautiful,” Marshall said, meeting her eyes. “She’s interested in everything in the world. She likes to paint and to dance and she likes origami.”

“Woah, Cowboy. I …” her brain short circuited slightly. “When did you have time to meet someone who you know that well already? I mean, really, it’s a silly question since you had time to knock someone up when I was in Mexico but how come you haven’t mentioned this new girl?”

“You were in Denver, Mare.” He sounded deflated, tired. Mary bit her lip and stared at her nails. “In Denver with someone I’ve begged you to stop seeing because he’s going to break your heart. I’m done begging. I have no power over whether or not you make stupid decisions, Mary. But I do have power over my own reactions to those decisions.”

“Marshall …”

“I’m going to be late. We’ll have dinner this weekend, okay?”

He locked his desk and stood up. The smile he flashed her was genuine, if tired, and she shifted her feet a bit until he was gone. Since Mexico he’d been more honest with her, and every word cut through her walls so deeply that she choked on the mortar between the bricks. She didn’t know why she couldn’t just break it off with Mike. But Scott had gambling and her mother had drinking and she had idiot men and stupid relationship decisions. And Marshall … Marshall who had every right to be an uptight nervous wreck while he watched the mother of his child date someone else, he had someone who made him smile in a way he used to smile at her.

***

  
“You’re quiet tonight.” Emily handed him a glass of wine and settled next to him on the wicker couch on her porch. Behind them, the wind made small waves in the pool. “What’s wandering through that Marshall Mann head of yours, hmmm?”

“Nothing, really. I’m just thinking about how strange life is sometimes.” Not wanting to divulge how he’d been thinking about the heartbroken look in Mary’s eyes when he’d left the office, Marshall instead ran his hand invitingly up the slit of Emily's sarong. “I’m glad Amy introduced us.”

“I am too.” The kiss was sweet but promising. He’d held off falling into bed with her, having learned his lesson with Amy, but his gentlemanly impulses were failing him. Emily was beautiful and given half a chance, he knew he could fall completely in love. “But that’s not all you’re thinking about,” she said when she pulled back for air. Her fingers took the glass of wine from him and she moved, straddling his lap. The sarong parted invitingly, displaying teal bikini bottoms that matched her top.

“No …” he groaned, “I was thinking about this too.”

“Good.” Emily leaned in and kissed him again. “Don’t worry,” she said as she guided his hands up from her legs to the tie of her bikini, “There’s no chance in hell you can get me pregnant.” He paused and looked at her.

“Is there an actual, factual basis for this or are you just trying to get me into bed?”

“Oh, both.” She grinned playfully. “And if you stick around long enough, you might just get to learn why.” Marshall laughed and crushed her to him in a kiss before skillfully untying the laces of her bikini.

“You planned this tonight,” he whispered, his lips tracing down to her bare breasts toward her nipples.

“Guilty,” she wrapped her hands in his hair, “but you don’t seem to mind.”

He didn’t. He liked Emily. He liked her comfortable nature and her house that smelled like Pinion. He liked the cactus plants by her pool and the cats that wandered in and out of her always open screen door. He liked her piles and piles of books and the fishbowl altars. He liked how she always ordered her coffee differently and how she picked the cooked carrots out of her meals. He liked her perfume and the scent of coconut and how she wore sarongs and Birkenstocks and linen tank tops.

“Let’s take this inside …” She pulled off his lap and took his hand. Marshall followed willingly.

 _TBC …_


	4. Fic: In Plain Sight - One Step Beyond Logic (Ch. 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _His logical mind argued that after Mary got bored, she’d be available again and what then? Would he stay with Emily out of spite or out of love or would it ever matter anyway?_

_**Fic: In Plain Sight - One Step Beyond Logic (Ch. 4)**_  
 **Series:** [One Step Beyond Logic](http://community.livejournal.com/vega_voices/tag/fic:%20logic)  
 **Chapter Four:** Consequences Realized  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Marshall/OFC; Mary/Faber; Eventual Mary/Marshall  
 **Timeframe:** Post 3rd Season Finale  
 **Rating:** The series is rated adult because you never know when sex will happen.  
 **A/N:** I blame [](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/profile)[**irishhusky**](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/) for this. While [](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/profile)[**mary_marshall**](http://mary-marshall.livejournal.com/) was rewatching last week, I was writing. If she hadn’t posted with that soccer icon, NONE of this would have happened. But we’ve all said Marshall needs to move on and figure himself out. This is one way it could happen.  
 **Disclaimer:** Mary belongs to Marshall, but she doesn't realize it. Marshall belongs to Mary, and he knows it. Faber belongs to people who weren't thinking when they created him. Amy, Jack, and Emily belong to me. In Plain Sight belongs to people who need to hire me, but until they do, I just write fic and make no money from it.

 **Summary:** _His logical mind argued that after Mary got bored, she’d be available again and what then? Would he stay with Emily out of spite or out of love or would it ever matter anyway?_

  
Amy Ridgeway leaned back in her chair, her hand absently stroking her ever active belly. In the six months since her tumble into Marshall Mann’s backseat had put her in her current condition, she’d learned quite a bit about the father of her child – mostly from his ever adoring, ever doting mother. And if there was one thing she knew now for certain – Marshall’s daughter was going to turn out just like him. He’d apparently also done nothing but kick for nine months. Mrs. Mann joked it was because his long legs needed more room. A little foot made staccato rhythms against her hand and she chuckled, still surprised at her actions. She’d always sworn if this kind of thing happened to her, she’d have an abortion. Her career in the FBI was too important to her and having a baby seriously cut down on travel ability. She knew Marshall would have understood her reasoning if she did have an abortion, she also knew that if she hadn’t wanted to keep the baby he’d have willingly and happily taken custody. Marshall Mann was a good guy. Too good a guy. Sometimes, she worried he was secretly a serial killer.

Her headset crackled and she leaned forward, pressing the speaker to her ear. The connection was fuzzy; the restaurant construction and someone’s iPhone messed with the signal.

 _… get the product through from Mexico …_

 _… same rate as usual …_

She glanced at the photographs from the file, angry at the image of her old partner and the clear violation of everything they as federal officers stood for. They’d taken an oath. An oath to protect and defend and here was Michael Faber using his power to do everything but. Even his on-again off-again relationship with Inspector Mary Shannon was completely for his benefit and Amy felt incredibly dirty knowing what she did. It didn’t help that poor Marshall hated Faber, Faber’s relationship with Mary, and in general, everything about the douchebag they were dealing with. If only she could reveal the secrets of the multi-state operation that extended from Denver to New Mexico and even to the FBI team in Mexico. She knew for a fact that Marshall would take care of the guy and she’d even be willing to help cover up whatever he needed covering up. The baby kicked and she laughed. “What, kiddo? You don’t approve of your old mom plotting to kill someone? Okay.”

 _…I’m here for another few days. I can stretch it out if you need it…_

This was it, she knew. He was here, plotting yet another deal where the INS guards would look the other way while he pocketed money from smugglers. Another day of transporting human beings across the border where they would get to work in the land of opportunity for slave wages and the chance to be humiliated at every turn by conservative and liberal alike. This time, the task force had him with his hand in the cookie jar. They needed to move. How long until the next time around?

His voice crackled again in her ear. She sighed, waiting, watching the numbers advance on the digital recorder. Soon. This bullshit would all be over soon.

***

  
Mary hated this. Hated it. She knew that Faber tried to channel his witnesses south and despite agents supposed to be kept in the dark about their witnesses locations, he kept finding ways to move his own people down to New Mexico. Really, she was tired of it. And there he was again on the other side of the table, smirking at her, undressing her with his eyes. This time, she was trying to ignore him, and to make matters worse, Marshall was late, leaving her alone with Mike whose charming ways worked on her more than she liked to admit.

Marshall skittered through the door, fumbling and apologetic, and she leveled him with a glare. She knew where he’d been. She got that Amy had invited him to the doctor’s appointment, but he’d left her alone with Faber and right now, that wasn’t a good thing.

Anyway, the witness was driving her crazy.

Marshall for his part took a look at Mary’s face, then at Faber, and threw his own smirk right back at Mary. Reminding her in one glance that she’d made her own damned bed and now she got to wallow in the misery. When he sat down next to her, MOUs in hand, she kicked him. Hard. He jumped and glared at her and she just shrugged and turned back to their newest witness.

Betty Jenkins, now Betty Jackson. A poor cheerleader from the University of Colorado who had the unfortunate experience of witnessing the murder of the assistant football coach by the mob who now controlled the NCAA. Too smart to fit the cheerleader role, too dumb to keep her mouth shut and listen to Marshall as he lectured about the MOU.

It took twenty minutes before she completely snapped.

“Listen, Betty. If you want to go back to your football throwing boyfriend and get bounced around from guy to guy on the team, feel free. But you won’t last three minutes. They want you dead. Dead. You’ll never watch another football game again. So shut the hell up and listen to what Marshall is telling you. He’s trying to save your life.”

When she saw Marshall holding in his laughter, she couldn’t help but bite back her own grin. Faber looked appropriately baffled. “What Mary is trying to say…”

“Put a sock in it, Agent. I know what I’m trying to say. So get the hell out and let me and Marshall do our jobs.” She glared at him. Hard. Next to her, Marshall cocked an eyebrow.

Faber slunk out of the room.

“Now,” Mary turned back to her partner, “where were we?”

Betty trembled. For Mary, the world fell back into place.

***

  
Dinner plans with Mary were ruined by the appearance of Faber at her desk after they’d moved Betty to a motel for the night. Once lock and guard were in place, the marshals headed back to the office to log off for the day, and there Faber sat, at her desk, on his cell phone. Marshall contemplated a well placed bullet between the eyes but his own phone rang and it was only one of a tiny handful of people who were more important than the torture of Mary’s on again, off again lover.

“This is Marshall.”

 _“I love how you say your name when you answer the phone, even when you know it’s me.”_

The sound of his girlfriend’s voice gently released the last of the tension in his shoulders. Ignoring the pleading look Mary threw in his direction, he walked out to the balcony. “What’s up?”

 _“You texted me, remember? Something about dinner? I thought you and Mary were going to get a pizza and watch Back to the Future or something.”_ She was laughing and it made him feel better. Emily knew full well how important his friendship with Mary was and despite Mary’s occasional jealousy, Emily handled it beautifully. She had a life outside of him, just like he had one that didn’t always involve her.

“Oh, Mary’s … whatever he is is in town. I know I sound like a jealous jerk, and I apologize for that. But really, Em, the guy oozes slime and I’d think that way even if he wasn’t sleeping with my best friend.”

Again, she laughed. _“So I’m your backup plan?”_

“It was that or shoot the asshole and I’ve spent too much time in prisons to actually want to become a resident of one.”

 _“Well, how about channeling all of that tense, violent energy into something much more productive?”_

Images of a naked Emily straddling him while she milked his cock with her inner muscles swam in his mind and Marshall had to clear his throat a couple of times before speaking. “What did you have in mind?”

 _“Meet me at my shop.”_

***

  
“I was duped.” Marshall took the box Emily handed up to him and slid it onto the top shelf in the storeroom of the shop.

“You conjectured that I was seducing you, Marshall.” Her pixie laugh filled the air and she handed him another box. “Just because your plans got screwed up doesn’t mean mine did. Someone had to do inventory and I am the boss around here.”

“I could have caught up on my paperwork.”

“You work for the government, Marshall. You do things too efficiently and they start to get suspicious.”

He snorted his agreement and slid the last of the recently counted boxes into place. “What’s next?”

Emily’s small hands rested on her slim hips and not for the first time, Marshall felt a surge of emotion he hadn’t felt since the moment he’d realized his true feelings for Mary. There were nights, when after they’d come and they held each other, sweaty and exhausted, he wanted to whisper how he loved her, was falling in love with her, and that he could see a future together. But it was too soon and there were times, like tonight, when he was still too raw with the realization that Mary still needed to do her cowboy. His logical mind argued that after Mary got bored, she’d be available again and what then? Would he stay with Emily out of spite or out of love or would it ever matter anyway?

“The candles. Those boxes are heavier so they’re down lower.”

“Candles. I’m going to go home smelling like sandalwood and rose hips.”

Emily smirked at him as he came down the ladder. She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned up to kiss him softly. “You always leave my house smelling that way anyway, Inspector.”

“You have a point.” He returned her kiss, drawing the motion out until her arms had moved up around his neck and he’d lifted her, holding her easily at his level. He loved moments like this, holding her close, smelling the dust of the shop and the hints of the organic coconut lotion she was so fond of. Her waist length hair tangled against his fingers and he moved his hands up, off her waist, slowly setting her down on her feet again. “Let’s count your candles, because I’ve decided I have other plans for tonight after all.”

“Really?”

He smirked and stroked his thumb across her already tented nipple. “Yes.”

“You’re an evil man, Marshall.”

With a grin, Marshall turned back to the smelly boxes of candles. “Yes.”

***

  
After the third text, she’d given up. He’d responded each time and each time she could tell he was laughing in his response, but the _See you tomorrow_ had been incredibly final. He was with Emily, enjoying himself, and Faber was snoring in her bedroom.

Marshall’s speech from months ago still echoed in her head. He was right, she knew. But for all her fearlessness in most things in her life, the idea of actually being with someone who challenged her, who treated her like a true equal, was impossible to wrap her brain around. Never, in her life, had she found that in a romantic partner. They either got off on her tough girl attitude or they got off trying to turn her into a princess. Faber was, ironically, as close as it came to someone who did make her think, but the sex was better than the conversation and the sex was not the best she’d ever had.

He was fun. But she was beginning to tire of him. And she was starting to suspect there was something more than sex, something that actually had nothing to do with her, that brought him over and over to Albuquerque.

Groaning, she grabbed a beer from her fridge and moved out to the arbor. Even with the sun down, it was still close to ninety degrees and she found herself wishing for the slight chill of fall – when with the sun down it would again get back to sixty degrees. She wanted to text Marshall again, ask some stupid question only he would know the answer to, but his final comment had been an unspoken demand for privacy. If she’d have blown Faber off, she’d be curled up with Marshall on the couch, still eating pizza and sipping cabernet, watching some movie she pretended to hate just so she could hear him talk about it. Instead, she’d given in to the physical need for some half-way decent sex and he’d gone off to his girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

Marshall had a girlfriend.

Emily was all right, if you liked that kind of thing. Despite her pagan tendencies she was pretty down to Earth, and she was much more intelligent than Mary wanted to admit. Marshall had a good thing going with her. She’d only met the woman once or twice, both times when she’d dropped Marshall off at Emily’s store after work.

Marshall was so damned careful about making sure Emily didn’t know his true identity all the while opening up every other part of himself to the other woman. It amazed her, really, how he could compartmentalize like he did. She was a steaming pile of emotion, charging into walls like that fabled bull in the china shop. He just stood there and somehow picked up the pieces.

Compartmentalization was how he dealt with Amy’s ever impending due date. It hurt him, she knew, that this first child of his had come about like it had. And she gave him shit for it, all the while privately excited that Marshall Mann was finally going to get to be the father he wanted to be. She didn’t understand kids, but he sure as hell wanted them. She saw it in the way he talked about nieces and nephews and how he reacted to the kids who came into the program. She knew he wanted nothing more than to be part of the _Big Brothers, Big Sisters_ mentoring program but didn’t trust that work wouldn’t pull him away from the kid he was trying to help.

But what would this relationship with Emily bring?

Marriage? Kids? A life away from her?

Did Emily make him think? She had a feeling the petite redhead meant more to Marshall than just some cowboy fling. Marshall had bared his soul to her before she’d danced off to Mexico with Faber and now she had to face her own consequences. What he’d really meant all those months ago was that he was willing to be that person who made her think. He was even willing to be her cowboy. But she’d run. Run from the look in his eyes and the truth that change was harder than anyone ever admitted. She’d run to a man who flirted and teased and who, at the end of the day, left her just as empty as when she started. Marshall now went out at night with a beautiful woman who made him smile, who made his eyes light up in a way she’d never seen before. Marshall was happy.

But where did that leave her?

She sighed and stared at her phone.

 _See you tomorrow._

Wasn’t anything she could do about that then, really? Was there?

Inside, she heard Faber’s phone beep and the low sound of his voice as he answered it. She gathered up her dignity and moved back inside. He was here. There wasn’t any reason she shouldn’t enjoy it.

He hung up as soon as he saw her and she frowned, recognizing the look of someone who was hiding something.

“What was that?”

“Oh, case stuff. There’s some stuff happening up in Denver.”

She understood not being able to talk about a case, so she shrugged it off, ignoring the little voice in the back of her mind that something was up. He opened his arms and she went, willingly. This part, at least, she understood.

 _TBC …  
_


	5. Fic: One Step Beyond Logic (Ch 5)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _In her admission, he heard what she would never say aloud – she’d hoped that for once, she’d found someone uncomplicated._

_**Fic: One Step Beyond Logic (Ch 5)**_  
 **Series:** [One Step Beyond Logic](http://community.livejournal.com/vega_voices/tag/fic:%20logic)  
 **Chapter Five:** Warranted  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Marshall/OFC; Mary/Faber; Eventual Mary/Marshall  
 **Timeframe:** Post 3rd Season Finale  
 **Rating:** The series is rated adult because you never know when sex will happen.  
 **A/N:** I blame [](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/profile)[**irishhusky**](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/) for this. If she hadn’t posted with that soccer icon, NONE of this would have happened. But we’ve all said Marshall needs to move on and figure himself out. This is one way it could happen.  
 **Disclaimer:** Mary belongs to Marshall, but she doesn't realize it. Marshall belongs to Mary, and he knows it. Faber, well... not sure who he belongs to. Amy, Jack, and Emily belong to me. In Plain Sight belongs to people who need to hire me, but until they do, I just write fic and make no money from it.

 **Summary:** _In her admission, he heard what she would never say aloud – she’d hoped that for once, she’d found someone uncomplicated._

 _I go to the mountain side  
of the house to cut saplings,  
and clear a view to snow  
on the mountain. But when I look up,  
saw in hand, I see a nest clutched in  
the uppermost branches.  
I don't cut that one.  
I don't cut the others either.  
Suddenly, in every tree,  
an unseen nest  
where a mountain  
would be._  
Choices, by Tess Gallagher

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Marshall registered the ringing of his phone. But the sound paled in urgency to the magic Emily was working with her lips and his cock currently controlled all logical thought. So he let the familiar tone of “work” go to voice mail right as his lover sucked in her cheeks and did that thing with her tongue. He came, his fingers tight in her hair. She swallowed and sat up, meeting his lips immediately and his tongue cleaned hers, reveling in the lingering taste of his semen in her mouth. There was a coarse masculinity to claiming her like this after she went down on him, he knew, and Marshall took a perverse pride in knowing that she was willing to do this for him, to him.

“Your phone rang,” she teased as he pulled back.

“Yeah?” Marshall rolled her and Emily taunted him, stretching her arms above her head and arching her back. Her breasts jutted out, round and firm and he bent to press a kiss to the slight swell at her hips. He liked that she had curves. “What of it?” Before he could slide his fingers into her, the phone again rang and with a groan of frustration, Marshall gave in. The blackberry was buried under his clothes and he dug it out with one hand, the other finding a home between Emily’s legs. He could multi-task. But the call was Stan, not Mary. He stilled his hand, ready for something serious.

“Marshall,” he barked into the phone. Emily sat up, pulling a sheet over her body. Marshall sat up and reached for his pants.

 _“We got a problem. You need to get in here. Now.”_

“Is Mary on her way?”

 _“No. And don’t call her.”_

“What do you mean?” Panic flushed his body and his heart sped up. What was going on?

 _“It has to deal with that FBI agent she’s been seeing. Look, just get in here, Marshall.”_

“I’m on my way.” He turned to Emily, who had already settled down under the covers. “I’m sorry, Baby.”

“You’re forgiven.” She smiled wanly and Marshall sighed. “Hurry back though. I like your fingers much more than mine.”

“Em …” He reached out and she took his hand. Five months together. Five months since Amy had introduced them, since they’d spent the night talking, since he’d discovered joy could reside in tiny redheads with slightly pointed ears. He was falling in love with her and it felt like a betrayal to Mary, but he’d discovered he didn’t care.

“Just come back safe, okay. Whenever you get called like this in the middle of the night, you usually come back covered in dust and grit and a couple of bruises.”

“I promise.” They kissed and it took some part of his brain he didn’t know existed to pull away before he again sank into her body. “I’ll see you later okay?”

***

  
Marshall stared blankly at the arrest warrant. “Why the hell hasn’t he been arrested before now?”

“Because,” Stan sounded as angry as he was and Marshall tried to control his own temper. It wasn’t working very well and he walked to the wall and stared at it, contemplating how many bones he’d break if he just let loose and put his fist into it. “Because,” Stan was still talking, “every time they try to actually catch him in the act, something goes south. The last time he was down in here Albuquerque, he set up a huge deal that got tipped off by someone on the task force team. That person has been arrested. Now, finally, thanks to confessions and real police work, Faber is being arrested. They don’t need wire taps now that they have signed documentation from his accomplices.”

“Does Mary know?”

“Not yet.”

“Stan, you have to know that she knows nothing. If she knew anything, she’d have turned Faber in.”

“Really?”

His need to protect Mary at all costs flared at Stan’s question. “He isn’t Brandi. She isn’t out to keep him safe. He’s her boy toy.” The bitterness seeped into his words and Marshall winced. He hadn’t meant it to be quite as vitriolic as it sounded. Thankfully Stan ignored his tone.

“They’re still going to question her. You need to get there and talk to her now. Before FBI agents show up at her door and bring back all the memories of the last time she was part of an investigation.”

Marshall nodded, turning his eyes back to the warrant. He wanted to be happy at this turn of events. Faber was out of Mary’s life and so now out of his life. Mary could be herself and find herself, far away from the condescending, smarmy, slimy attitudes of Mike Faber.

Five months ago, he’d have leapt for joy at the idea that Mary might be his. He might have a chance. But now he had Emily and it was Emily he wanted. Now, his concern was for his best friend and partner, not a potential lover.

“I’ll go over there right now.”

***

  
Mary’s dazed gaze flitted between him and the copy of the warrant. Marshall admitted to himself that he was proud she hadn’t punched him simply for delivering the message. But Mary’s silent fury was always deadly when it did explode. So he waited.

“I had a feeling something was going on,” she finally said. “When we were in Mexico together … there were a couple of moments I just knew he wasn’t there for me alone. There were phone calls. Once he left bed late at night. I wanted to ignore it. So I did.”

In her admission, he heard what she would never say aloud – she’d hoped that for once, she’d found someone uncomplicated. Someone who liked her and she liked him and the sex was good and they could just enjoy each other. She didn’t have to justify the stress of the job or explain why she couldn’t tell him about what she did all day. She didn’t have to show up at his house every night. It wasn’t messy and despite Marshall’s warning that she in fact needed messy, he knew she liked what she and Mike had. Now yet another relationship was in ruins, this time in the worst possible way.

“Mary …” She looked up and he saw the tears in her eyes. His arms opened and she instinctively burrowed into him. For all his confusion about her choices with Faber, for all his heartbreak he’d suffered over the past few months, she was still his best friend. And he was still the only person who truly understood her. So she cried and he held her. Tightly. Because really, it wasn’t fair. He was never one to say that the universe owed anyone anything, but sometimes Mary Shannon really did deserve a break.

“Who is the task force rep down here?”

“Amy, actually.”

She stiffened, “Did you know?”

“No, Mary. I had no idea he was under investigation.”

She nodded against his chest. “I’ll talk to her whenever she wants me.”

“Okay.” He kissed her temple.

“You smell like sex,” she murmured. “This whole thing called you away from Emily.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t get the chance to shower.”

“It’s okay …” She still clung. He still held on. “I’m sorry, Marshall.”

“For what?”

“Running from you when you ....”

“It’s okay, Mary.” He kissed her temple, meaning it. His lips lingered on her skin. “You’ll get through this.”

“I always do.”

The finality of her statement broke his heart. Mary Shannon: Survivor. That was what would end up on her headstone. She deserved more.

***

  
“You’re quiet. Though I suppose I should be grateful you’re back here without bruises.” Emily stepped out onto the porch and handed him a glass of wine. Her pale pink sarong wrapped around her body and he knew she was naked underneath. Wanting to bury himself inside of her and forget all his problems, he reached for her, but she evaded his grasp. “Uh uh, Marshall. Talk to me.”

What was he supposed to say? That his mind was across town in a comfortable three bedroom ranch home? That he could see Mary sitting in her kitchen, staring blankly at a plate of food while she contemplated how she was cursed when it came to relationships? That he’d known something was completely hinky about Mike Faber but he’d done nothing to actively stop Mary from placing her bets on him? That what he’d realized in all of this was that while Mary was his best friend, he was in fact in love with Emily?

It wasn’t until his girlfriend was sitting on his lap, her face buried in his neck, that he realized he’d spoken all of those thoughts out loud.

“I love you too,” Emily whispered. He tightened his arms around her and pressed his own face against her neck. The universe owed him nothing, but he’d been granted Emily. Sweet Emily with her belief in the powers of the elements and her store that survived on purchases by fluffy bunny pagans. Emily, who loved to spend weekends in bed watching _Lord of the Rings_ and re-reading the _Narnia_ series. Emily, who had every right to hate him considering he’d knocked up her best friend but who instead was as excited as he was about Amy’s approaching due date. He slid a hand inside her sarong and up her smooth leg. “I love you,” she repeated, opening herself to him, “and if you need to be with Mary tonight, I’ll understand. She’s your best friend and she’s hurting right now.”

“She told me she wanted to be alone and I know this time she meant it.” He set his wine glass on the glass table and kissed Emily softly. “I’ll go over in a couple of hours. I know her cycle of anger. Right now, I want to be here.” Until he said the words he hadn’t realized that he needed to be right where he was. To be with Mary right now was to be completely open to her vulnerabilities and he didn’t know if he could turn away if some invisible line was crossed.

“Fair enough.” Emily moved and the sarong fell open, giving him a full view of the path his hand was taking. With a smile, Marshall focused on the task at hand. Mary needed him, he knew. But he also needed this. Needed Emily. The universe had granted him this gift, but it didn’t come without a price. This time, the price was his dependence on Mary’s stability.

She’d be okay. She always was. Mary Shannon: Survivor.

He hoped one day, she’d get to be more. But right now, he had the chance to be Marshall Mann: Boyfriend. He liked that opportunity. He loved Emily. And Mary didn’t need to be happy in order for him to find peace. Gently, he kissed Emily again and then scooped her up into his arms and carried her back into the bedroom.

 _TBC ..._


	6. Fic: One Step Beyond Logic (Ch 6)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _She did not hear a sound from the adjoining room. Nor did she want to._

_**Fic: One Step Beyond Logic (Ch 6)**_  
 **Series:** [One Step Beyond Logic](http://community.livejournal.com/vega_voices/tag/fic:%20logic)  
 **Chapter Six:** Checkmate  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Marshall/OFC; Mary/Faber; Eventual Mary/Marshall  
 **Timeframe:** Post 3rd Season Finale  
 **Rating:** The series is rated adult because you never know when sex will happen.  
 **A/N:** I blame [](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/profile)[**irishhusky**](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/) If she hadn’t posted with that soccer icon, NONE of this would have happened. But we’ve all said Marshall needs to move on and figure himself out. This is one way it could happen. I do hope this chapter makes [](http://smcsk8.livejournal.com/profile)[**smcsk8**](http://smcsk8.livejournal.com/) and [](http://bujyo.livejournal.com/profile)[**bujyo**](http://bujyo.livejournal.com/) happy. Really, they chewed on me last night. ;-)  
 **Disclaimer:** Mary belongs to Marshall, but she doesn't realize it. Marshall belongs to Mary, and he knows it. Faber belongs in the pokey. Amy, Jack, and Emily belong to me. In Plain Sight belongs to people who need to hire me, but until they do, I just write fic and make no money from it.

 **Summary:** _She did not hear a sound from the adjoining room. Nor did she want to._

 _...black butterflies of the general soul,  
join me to those who are missing, those who sleep  
like hives of wild honey, who sleep with their  
sweetness intact like a blue door sure and firm  
in the swift corridors of the night._  
From: Dear Ghosts (Tess Gallagher)

“This looks nicer than I thought it would.” Mary crouched in front of the ten gallon monstrosity that housed a colorful collection of glassy eyed ornaments that moved. Through the grouping of community fish swam her own betta, a gift to her for his collection after she assured him over and over again that a betta could survive in a community environment as long as the fish were all approximately the same size and none of the others were also bettas.

It was nice to know something he didn’t. For once.

“Elizabeth loves it.” Marshall closed the door to his room, cutting their conversation off from the seven-week-old child slumbering inside. “The lights and the colors catch her eye and she …” he stopped his rambling and chuckled and stared at his shoes and Mary stepped close and leaned into him.

“Fatherhood suits you.” His arm snaked around her waist and he held her tightly. “I mean, she’s a squalling rat right now but …” Mary threw him a grin. “But someday she will be as beautiful as her mother.”

“Not her father?”

“You’d better hope not.” They shared a laugh. Mary pulled away and walked to the couch, looking around the room. How long had it been since she’d spent any time here? More and more Marshall’s nights were taken up with Emily. Mary was a frequent guest at barbeques and pizza nights, but she went home after a couple of hours. How long since she’d passed out on his couch after a long conversation about nothing and everything? On the mantle was a photo of him and Emily, taken at the park by Amy.

She knew the answer to her question.

Mexico.

Since then Marshall had spent time at her place and they found reasons to stay late at work, but his home had somehow become off limits. In that time, colorful blankets had found their way onto his leather couches. A wooden incense burner in the shape of a dragon decorated the end table. And now, in the weeks since Elizabeth’s birth, there were baby toys and a playpen in the corner. The current arrangement was that Marshall would take her for a couple hours twice a week and then most of the day on Sunday. Mary knew that would change; Amy would move on and Marshall would be reduced to birthday cards and child support. It was inevitable. But fatherhood suited him, so for once she kept her mouth shut. He deserved that much from her.

The couch creaked and she looked over at him, her best friend, her only friend. He smiled more now. She didn’t understand his connection to Emily, but the other woman relaxed him. She was a companion. And maybe that was enough. Maybe the truth was that love was only the seeking of a partner and that sex was simply a bonus. Whatever Emily and Marshall had, it seemed to work.

Maybe what she and Marshall had been missing all along was the sex. Maybe if she hadn’t run when he confronted her and demanded she find a partner that made her think, life would be different. Maybes and what ifs were the rantings of crazy people and her own personal mantra. Her life was nothing if not a series of those questions.

“Why does fatherhood suit me, Mary?”

The question surprised her. Why couldn’t he take her at face value? Why did he want more? But it was an opening, a conversation they hadn’t had in forever. So she shrugged and looked at him, turning and tucking her foot under her leg. “You light up when you see Elizabeth …” she shrugged. “And you finally have a willing listener for all your crazy trivia. Stan and I can breathe easy at the office until she tells you to shut up.” Marshall rolled his eyes obligingly. Mary sighed, aching. She’d never been one to listen to her biological clock but since the late night text message that Amy was in labor, all she’d heard in her head was the steady ticking of the end of her life as a young woman. With each tock of the clock she saw her failed relationships, her sister’s joy, her mother finally settling down. She closed her eyes at night and saw Mike in the interrogation room and the agents in Denver keeping her from storming in and punching his lights out. She saw the picture of the kid Faber had used as his way into her heart, a boy who now had every reason to be ashamed of his lying, cheating, douchebag of a father.

“Thank you.” He chuckled and got to his feet, shuffling nervously. She had a feeling it had nothing to do with worries about Elizabeth and everything to do with her presence in his home. Were they strangers like this now? Had she been replaced? Suddenly she needed to get out and back to her silent home. Her home even abandoned by betta fish. But it was for Elizabeth. Marshall said she loved the tank.

“Maybe I should go.”

He turned, looking at her. “Why don’t I pop in a movie? It’s been a while since we watched _Caddyshack_.”

Him reaching out. A chance for her to stay. A chance for her to talk, to tell him how she really felt about her life. They never actually watched _Caddyshack_. They talked through it. Start to finish. He wanted her to stay. He felt the distance as much as she did. So she nodded. “Isn’t Elizabeth a bit young for it?”

“She’s got to start sometime.”

With a laugh, Marshall went to get the movie. Mary went for beer.

Three hours later, Mary opened the door to find Emily on the other side. For a moment she stared at the other woman, realizing that with a well placed whack to the back of the head, she could dispose of the pixie easily. Was this, she wondered, how Marshall had felt about Raphael? Not hating him but wanting him gone? No, it was different. It always was with her. Right? “Hi, Emily.”

“Hey, Mary. I’m sorry. Marshall said you were coming by today and I promised I wouldn’t cut into your time with him, but he left his debit card at my place last night when he paid for the pizza and I won’t see him for a couple of days so I wanted to drop it off.” She held out the piece of gold colored plastic and Mary took it, feeling somehow like she was the mistress just found out by the wife. Or was she the wife who had just met the mistress?

“Do you want to come in? Marshall’s just getting Elizabeth ready to get picked up by Amy.”

She hated being nice, but Emily didn’t deserve anything else. She’d made Marshall smile again.

The red head breezed in like the place belonged to her and made her way to the bedroom, skirts swaying around her ankles. The bedroom door was left open and Mary crept closer, eavesdropping on a conversation she had no right to hear.

“This is a surprise.”

Her stomach twisted at the pause that she knew was a kiss.

“Dropping off your debit card. I’m off to El Paso.”

“I could drive you.”

“Oh please. You just want an excuse to peruse the booksellers I’ll be talking to. Stay here and do your job, Inspector.”

“Whatever.”

Again, laughter. Again, a kiss. Mary slunk back to the couch. Marshall and Emily emerged from the bedroom. Elizabeth was tucked into her car seat, groggy and fussy. Amy had requested she be ready to go right on time – she was on her way to some mommy-daughter bonding class or something and would run late otherwise.

Not for the first time in her life, Mary felt completely extraneous, but it was the first time she’d ever felt that way with Marshall. She watched him hand a book to Emily and registered that he was explaining the dynamic of the author and the history of his work. She saw Emily take it, nodding, her eyes already scouring the pages.

This was why Marshall loved her. This right here – easy conversation and engrossing books and light kisses without any pressure for them to be anything else.

Suddenly, Mary couldn’t breathe. Here was Marshall, her Marshall, perfectly comfortable with another woman. She needed to flee, but her feet wouldn’t move. Elizabeth started to fuss. Marshall focused on his daughter. The moment was broken. Emily squeezed his shoulder in goodbye and was gone.

Mary pressed her hand to her heart and tried to find balance.

Never in her life, except with Marshall, had she ever had that easy a moment. And she’d had her chance and she’d run to Faber, to her cowboy. She’d reveled in being called kitten and in sex that did what it was supposed to do. She’d wanted something different and she got it. And now she was staring at the consequences of the dominoes she’d set into motion. What would it have taken to take her vacation at home? What would it have done to show up at Marshall’s door with a six pack and her brand new copy of _Back to the Future_ and to kiss him hello and ask if he liked her kind of mess?

The door closed behind Emily. Elizabeth stopped fussing.

Marshall was speaking to her.

“Mary?”

“Is that all it is, Marshall?”

“What?” He frowned and she realized he was kneeling in front of her, his hands over hers. “It that all what is?”

“What what is?”

“Love? Is it books and debit cards and conversations about trips to El Paso?” She shuddered. “Where’s the fireworks and the passion? Where’s the oozing of cheese and the tripping over each other to touch each other?”

He stared at her and stroked her cheek and she realized she was crying. “Is that what you really think it is, Mary?”

“I …” she swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Lust is fireworks. You know that. Lust is forgetting your name in the heat of passion. Love is remembering to return the debit card. It’s handing over a good book. It’s appreciating the little, stupid, dumbass things.”

“Like what?” He stared at her and she closed her eyes while she continued talking. “I never loved Raphael, Marshall. Not like that. I never made time to see him play. I never appreciated the time he took to sculpt his body. I never cared even to learn Spanish or spend any real time with his family. All I ever wanted from Faber was laughter and sex. I’ve never been in love, Marshall. Not like what you seem to have with Emily. And it happened while I wasn’t looking.”

She was lying. She had been in love like that. She was in love like that. But Marshall’s eyes were turned elsewhere and she couldn’t squelch the idea that she was letting herself feel this way because he was unavailable. What she really meant to say was that she had fallen in love with her best friend when she wasn’t looking and it had happened a long time ago and like a drunk who refused to give up her car keys, her realizations of the truth of her condition only became clear after the car had crashed into the tree.

“Mary …”

“No.” She stood up and grabbed her keys. “I have to go.”

Mary fled. Fled past Amy’s Subaru, out of hearing range of Marshall’s calling her name. She dove into her car and slammed it into drive and took off across town, to the security of her silent, empty house.

When Marshall came by to check on her, she feigned sleep and did not answer the door. He did not use his key.

***

  
Emily Davis was exhausted. The drive back from El Paso had involved a flat tire, a snarky border patrol officer that somehow resulted in a full search of her car for drugs, and when she came home, she didn’t even have her boots off before she had to turn around and head to the store to take care of the alarm. All she wanted was to collapse into bed, sleep until dawn, and then join Marshall for what had become their morning run.

Marshall. Never in her life had she expected to fall for someone in law enforcement. She’d always dated fellow progressive-pagan-anarchist types who revolted against “the man”. Her boyfriends matched her political streaks and most of them had records or FBI files. Her friendship with Amy was a rarity, but they bonded over soccer and they rarely talked politics. Then, standing before her was Marshall. Steady, calm, responsible Marshall who ate organic, free range meats and grew his own vegetables. Marshall, who claimed agnosticism and yet was willing to attend rituals with her. Marshall, who believed in the heart of conservatism – that people’s lives were their own and the government had no right to intrude, that national security was of utmost importance, and that taxes were a necessary evil to keeping a free society free (he understood that her taxes paid his very comfortable salary). Of the men she’d dated, it was his intellect that stimulated her and she spent her days searching for trivia to trip him up. He loved to watch her dance and she loved to take his hands and spin him around the fire pit. He was generous in bed yet claimed her and she was more than willing to give him what he asked for. To their friends they made little sense, but she was comfortable with him. They talked. His Masters degree was in archeology, hers in history and so the arguments and theoretical conversations were endless. They stayed in bed and watched movies. They made love. Theirs was not an angst ridden tale of unresolved tension or a comedy where her part would be played by Meg Ryan and his by Tom Hanks. They argued endlessly over politics and whether or not the war in Afghanistan was a success or a failure. He hated Richardson but was willing to give Obama a chance, despite voting for McCain. She’d supported Hillary and was insulted that the Republicans felt Sarah Palin was the ideal example of a woman, let alone a conservative one. She’d never handled a gun and never intended to – refusing to even move Marshall’s service weapon if it was in her way. Marshall spent every Saturday morning at the range with Mary. Target practice.

A surge of emotion rippled through her. Mary. Emily wasn’t an idiot. She knew Marshall had feelings for his best friend and she hesitated to let herself love him as much as she did. The last thing she needed was for the rug to be pulled out from under her and to wake up to an empty bed and Marshall in Mary’s arms. For a while, she’d worried it would happen. Now it only crossed her mind when she was off on a trip like the one that had taken her to El Paso. Mary had looked so sad when she opened the door the other day. Emily would never make Marshall choose, but she wondered if Mary would. She wanted to get to know this woman who helped to make Marshall who he was, but Mary had never made too much of an effort and Emily wasn’t going to push. Pushing women like Mary only made them run away.

With a tired sigh, Emily pulled her Prius into the parking lot of the store. Albuquerque PD had yet to respond to the alarm going off, and she debated waiting for the uniformed cops or going to check the back door herself. Chances were her new assistant manager had simply set the alarm wrong.

Marshall would have a fit, she knew, if he found out she didn’t wait. But Emily wanted to get home to her bed. Stepping from the car, she shoved her hands into her back pockets and a shiver ran up her spine. This was the feeling Marshall had talked about once – the need for protection. She stared at her car and opted to wait. Better safe than sorry. Marshall would be proud. On instinct she pulled out her phone, ready to call him. Why hadn’t she before?

Slipping back into her car, she turned on the engine and flipped the lights …

… just in time to see the glint of a knife, the spurt of blood, and the muzzle of a gun. A flash went off and her ears echoed with the bang of the shot. For a brief moment all she could see were two faces she would never forget. Instinct told her to run and she was out of her car even while the gang banger took off in a different direction, firing shots at her. She heard the ping of the bullets against the metal and ran faster.

Flashing lights caught her. Albuquerque PD soothed her.

And it wasn’t until she was sitting in a gray room at the precinct, staring across the table at a rumpled FBI agent, that she realized she’d walked in on a battle between two of the country’s most dangerous gangs. In the morning she’d appreciate the irony of making it to El Paso and back without a scratch but that events on a quiet street in Albuquerque had landed her in the witness protection program. She could ID the shooter and the guy with the knife. They could ID her. She had a choice.

She chose life.

***

  
It broke every rule in the book, and he’d never been more grateful for Amy’s clout and Stan’s discretion. Mary was the one to call him, to let him know _she_ had a new witness for transport. They were headed to Chicago. He called and left a message for Emily and raced to the office and froze when he saw the familiar red hair bent over the conference room table. The world spun around him. Somehow he heard Mary talking. Mary. He had to focus on Mary.

“I haven’t gone in yet.” Mary’s words were soft. “We’ve set up the trip by way of Chicago. Her new team is meeting us there and they’ll bring her to her real placement. I’m not allowed to tell you where it is.” It was a meaningless gesture. Marshall had the ability to look Emily up at any time.

“What happened?”

“She walked in on a gang fight right in front of her store. She’s lucky to be alive. Her car is shot up pretty bad.”

Emily. Emily who hated guns so much she wouldn’t even move his when it was in her way. Who lectured him all day long about how marijuana was less harmful than tobacco and if the government would turn its efforts away from the drug war, the governments of South America would stabilize. Who lit candles for kids killed in drive-by shootings. Emily. His Emily.

“I’m going over to her place to pack. We’re keeping her here until transport.”

Marshall nodded. Mary’s fingers pressed briefly into his. On shaking legs, he pulled away and walked into the conference room.

“Em …”

She gasped and looked up, her eyes meeting his. “So this is what you do all day?” Her eyes were red with tears and she’d never been paler. “Marshall …”

Mindful of glass walls and prying eyes, Marshall sat across from his girlfriend. “They’re letting us help with the transport,” his voice caught in his throat.

“I’m guessing that’s kind of against protocol.”

“I don’t care.” He sucked in a breath. “Em … I …”

“Please don’t say anything, okay?”

“What do you want me to do?” He wanted to hold her, to touch her. He wanted to soothe her and let her know she’d be fine.

“Your job. Please.”

Carefully, he sucked in another breath. His job would keep him grounded. “Mary is at your house right now, packing two suitcases for you. She will not pack anything that identifies you. This includes pictures. Don’t worry about your belongings. The Marshal’s service will go through them and ship anything that does not link you to your previous life to your new location.”

“What about my store?”

“It will be sold. Any money you make from the sale will be routed to you. You cannot go into business like that again.”

“So what am I supposed to do with my life?”

They stared at each other and Marshall chewed the inside of his cheeks and cursed all of her gods for making this happen. In a few short hours, their lives together would be erased from the world. He wouldn’t wake up to her preferred coffee. She wouldn’t stay in bed with him, folding origami. Suddenly, he wondered if it was okay if he kept the pictures he had of them. “The Inspectors at your new location will help you start over, Em. We’re meeting with them in Chicago. They’ll take you from there.”

She started to cry. He wanted to hold her. He needed to hold her. Damning protocol, Marshall walked around the table and took the woman he loved in his arms. She sobbed against his shirt, clinging to him, and for a moment, a brief moment, he wondered about pulling strings and following her into the program. His was a varied world, he could change careers and life easily. But as much as he loved Emily, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. That decision was much more difficult to come to. So he stroked her hair and let her cry and wondered about her new city and her new life and the man who would come after him.

***

  
The flight to Chicago took them first to Salt Lake, then Boise, before jumping across puddles to reach the bigger city. Mary kept vigilant watch on her heartbroken witness and her heartbroken witness’ boyfriend. The ruse had been her idea – make it look like they were a couple travelling together. Mary sat across the aisle and two rows up, pretending to be a bored traveler stuck on a series of horrible flights. Marshall and Emily said little, but she watched them in her peripheral vision; they held hands and she slept on his shoulder. Marshall was resigned to his fate.

They arrived in Chicago well past midnight. Marshall guarded Emily while Mary secured the transport. The Air Marshals had the black SUV ready for them and the group maneuvered through underground passageways to a secure parking deck. Mary drove. Marshall sat in the back with his arm around Emily.

Three rooms at the Hilton in downtown Chicago. Hers and Emily’s were joined – easy access for her. Marshall on the other side. Mary checked them in and gave Marshall and Emily their room keys. They went up first, the tired travelling couple. Mary followed one elevator ride behind. The next transfer team would meet them at eight AM. It left Marshall and Emily six hours to say good bye.

She wondered if he’d contemplated following her into the program.

The door between the rooms was unlocked and open – Marshall’s doing she knew – and Mary dropped her overnight bag on her bed and peeked in to check on Emily, who sat on the bed, staring at her chipped nail polish.

“This is really what you guys do all day?”

“Yeah.” She leaned against the doorjamb.

“I felt better before, back when I thought all Marshall did was kick down doors and arrest fugitives. I thought that was how he got his thrills, you know. He should be a god dammed psychologist. He helps people change their lives.” Emily raised her head and wiped her eyes. “Do you mind if he stays with me tonight?”

“No.” Mary shook her head. “The door has to stay unlocked but I can shut it. No one needs to know that Marshall spent the night in here.” She was amazed at how easy the words emerged. Part of her admitted to a sense of relief – the interloper was about to be gone. But Marshall was crushed and she wanted him to get to say goodbye properly.

“Thank you.” Emily stared again at her hands. “He loves you, Mary. When we met, he was in love with you. I don’t know if he still is. But he loves you. His sun rises and sets with you, even now. His eyes light up when he even mentions you. But he’s a sensitive man. There are times he needs kid gloves. There are stories he wants to share and he’s scared you will shoot him down. He shared them with me, but he wants you to hear them too.” She wiped her eyes but still didn’t look up. “Treat his heart gently, Mary. It’s raw. It aches. He’s never been loved the way he deserves. Don’t think what happened with Amy doesn’t haunt him. It was supposed to be a one night stand and turned into disaster.”

Mary shifted nervously, unsure how she felt being told about her best friend by his lover. She knew these things, somehow. But they were supposed to be hers alone to know.

“Don’t be selfish with him. And for God’s sake, open up to him. Nothing hurts him more than when you shut him out.”

There were three quick knocks on her door and then the spare key in the lock. Marshall came in and passed through the adjoining doors to sit with Emily on the bed. The two women looked at each other for a long time before Mary stepped back and closed the door. She wanted to eavesdrop, but she walked back to her own bed, checked the status of her gun, and lay for a long time, simply staring at the ceiling.

She did not hear a sound from the adjoining room. Nor did she want to.

***

  
Marshall took a week’s vacation. He turned off his phone and didn’t log onto the computer. Mary went to his house every day but he never answered the door. She’d started to suspect he’d run off to Mexico with Emily when he showed up at his desk. The look in his eyes begged her not to say anything, so she instead verified the schedule for the day.

She drove. He didn’t argue. Halfway to the first appointment, she chanced a look at his face. “You going to talk or you want to just mope?”

“I’m sorry.” His voice was tight. “I miss her.”

“At least you know she’s safe, Marshall. She’s in the best hands in the world.” He sighed in acknowledgement. At a stoplight, she reached across the console and squeezed his hand. Tired fingers squeezed back. “Want me to come over tonight? It’s been a while since we watched _Animal House_.” She wondered if they’d ever watched any part of the movie but the song. It was always good back ground noise for their conversations.

Silence again, and then a slow nod. “Sure. I’ll bring the beer.”

Mary removed her fingers to the wheel and started forward as the light turned green.

TBC…


	7. Fic: In Plain Sight - One Step Beyond Logic (Ch 7. - Final)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite inheriting Amy’s jet black hair and porcelain skin, Elizabeth had Marshall’s features and his deep blue eyes. Suddenly it hit her. _This_ was the deal with babies.

_**Fic: In Plain Sight - One Step Beyond Logic (Ch 7. - Final)**_  
 **Series:** [One Step Beyond Logic](http://community.livejournal.com/vega_voices/tag/fic:%20logic)  
 **Chapter Seven:** Perfect Imperfections  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairing:** Mary/Marshall (Yes, you read that right.)  
 **Timeframe:** Post 3rd Season Finale  
 **Rating:** The series is rated adult because you never know when sex will happen.  
 **A/N:** I blame [](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/profile)[**irishhusky**](http://irishhusky.livejournal.com/) for this. Because I kind of fell asleep before the rewatching of _Horst_ began, I give instead a brief “blink and you’ll miss it” homage to that ep. Thank you guys for tagging along for this. It was a journey I didn’t expect to take.  
 **Disclaimer:** Mary belongs to Marshall, but she doesn't realize it. Marshall belongs to Mary, and he knows it. Faber belongs in the pokey. Amy, Elizabeth, Jack, and Emily belong to me. In Plain Sight belongs to people who need to hire me, but until they do, I just write fic and make no money from it.

 **Summary:** Despite inheriting Amy’s jet black hair and porcelain skin, Elizabeth had Marshall’s features and his deep blue eyes. Suddenly it hit her. _This_ was the deal with babies.

“Explain something to me,” Mary slammed the passenger door shut and followed Marshall up to the house, “why do we have to have a huge party for a one-year-old? She’s one. She still eats, sleeps and poops. The only real change is that now she can pull herself up and falls down as she tries to walk.”

“Because parents like presents.” Marshall smirked. “Anyway, you like cake. So shut up.”

“How many kids are going to be here?”

“Enough to give you a headache. I invited Brandi and Peter. Kevin can still barely open his eyes but it’s never too early to socialize.”

“I’m still getting used to the idea of Brandi as a mother.”

“I’m still getting used to the idea that you’re related to Peter Alpert.”

“Only through marriage.” She followed Marshall into Amy’s home and was instantly assaulted with the smell of cake and candy and dirty children. Mary rolled her eyes at Marshall but let him take the lead. This was his thing. She was here for the cake.

“There’s Daddy!” Amy set a squirming child into Marshall’s arms. “She has been babbling all morning, looking for you.”

“It’s because I’m the cool parent.”

Elizabeth patted her father’s cheeks and said something that sounded like “Daddy” but she still wasn’t quite ready to form real words. Mary took a step back and looked at the pair of them. Despite inheriting Amy’s jet black hair and porcelain skin, Elizabeth had Marshall’s features and his deep blue eyes. Suddenly it hit her. _This_ was the deal with babies. They were the replacements of their parents – for better or worse. She closed her eyes a brief moment, wondering if Marshall was truly content with Elizabeth or if he wanted another child. With her. Would she ever be ready? When she opened her eyes, Elizabeth had turned to her and was holding out her arms. “Ri!” Her word, Mary suddenly realized, for “Mary”. Tears touched her eyes as she reached for Marshall’s daughter.

“Hi, Cutie.” Gently, she settled the little girl on her hip. It felt oddly familiar to do this. To hold his child. Looking up, she caught Marshall staring at her and she leaned in for a kiss. He responded tenderly and slipped his arm around her waist, allowing Mary to lean on him.

“Isn’t there some rule about partners fraternizing?” Amy smirked as she handed Marshall a bottle of water. “Really, you two. Keep it out of my daughter’s party.”

“Ahem?” Marshall tried, and failed, to look nonchalant.

“You heard me. If you’re going to do that in front of Elizabeth, you get to go home.”

Marshall stole another kiss. Mary lost herself in the now comfortable touch of his lips until Elizabeth started patting her cheek. “No!” The three adults started to laugh.

“Well, she has one word down.”

“She really does. She says it whenever Jack kisses me.”

Elizabeth wiggled down, grabbing onto the couch as she toddled around the room. Not yet ready to try walking on her own, but clearly bored with the whole concept of crawling. Other children her age played with toys while parents kept wary eyes out for any wailing or mess.

“Clearly then, she has issues with kissing.” Marshall nodded sagely. “Good. In fact, Amy, I don’t think it’s too soon to have serious discussions about convents.”

“Marshall, honey,” Mary let her voice drip with sugary sarcasm, “they make porn movies about convents. Remember that video on your shelf?”

“You know what, Mary …” But he was laughing and Amy was turning red from stifling her giggles. Mary smirked her “I win” look at him and went in search of her sister and nephew.

Brandi and Peter were sitting at one of the card tables, fawning over the weeks-old infant. Stopping a few feet away to watch, Mary bit her lip while Peter brushed a lock of hair back from his wife’s face before dropping a kiss to her lips. There were moments she still pinched herself – Brandi really had turned everything around. Had it just been a couple of years ago she’d been hauled in front of a federal judge on kidnapping and drug charges? Now she was married, the owner of her own (struggling) business, and the mother of a child who already bore a very strong resemblance to their father. Brandi really was okay. No, she was better than okay.

Watching the two of them together, Mary realized she was no longer scared that Brandi would show up on her doorstep, homeless and bruised and attracting the trouble that seemed to follow her wherever she went. Tears welled in her eyes. Brandi was all grown up. And really, she’d done it. For her anger and bitterness over their childhood, she also felt at times more like Brandi’s mother than her sister. Now Brandi was all grown up and living, truly living, her own life. In that moment, Mary realized something: she was proud of her.

Wiping at an errant tear, Mary walked closer and knelt down in front of the car seat. “He’s still red and puffy,” she teased, running her finger in front of Kevin’s eyes. The baby raised his hand and weakly tried to catch her finger. After a few seconds she let him win the game and he gripped on. Tight.

“I hear they stay that way for a while,” Peter laughed. “Is Marshall with Elizabeth?”

“She got bored of his rambling about the history of birthday parties and is pulling herself around the living room again. I left him in Amy’s hands.”

“Careful. You know what happened the last time you did that.” Brandi smirked at her and took a sip of her apple juice. Mary only rolled her eyes in response and focused again on her nephew.

***

  
“You look happy, Marshall.” Amy smiled at him. “It’s nice to see.”

“Thank you.” Marshall couldn’t help but glance to where Mary went, but he let her have her moment with Brandi and Peter. “It’s nice to be happy.” Watching the adults talk over the heads of the kids, he couldn’t help but remember the last time he’d seen a lot of these people. Amy had thrown Emily at him and he hadn’t minded in the least. The truth was, he missed the waiflike redhead. He missed her fair minded sensibilities and the quiet way she lit incense and candles as soon as she walked into her house. But for the peace and security he’d had with Emily, the last three months with Mary were everything he’d ever hoped for.

She’d shown up at his doorstep, a six pack in one hand, a collection of videos in the other. “I’m done thinking,” had been all she’d managed to say before he’d wrapped one hand around her neck, the other around her waist, and spent a good ten minutes kissing her, right there, on his porch.

With Mary he didn’t think. He didn’t need to. The conversations were easy. What he knew about theoretical thought process, she matched with her heavy handed reality – a reality that was not as heavy handed when he watched her step through the door of her now peaceful home. There were no candles instantly lit and no incense sticks to burn; instead there was light that filtered through the bubble glass and the soft lapping of the water against the sides of the pool. There was the creak of her couch as she collapsed onto it and the book always on her coffee table.

His friends knew. Her family knew; his tsk-tsked that he was romantically involved with his partner but even his father was willing to admit that Mary was good for him. She was the “rough edge” he needed in his life. Sometimes, the edge was still a bit too sharp for his liking but now, when the blade dug below the skin, she not only apologized but bandaged the wound with a kiss and an explanation as to why she lashed out. If anyone at work had noticed they were working together better than ever and had figured out the reason why, they kept their mouths shut. Once, he’d caught Stan giving him a rather paternal look but nothing had been said about the moment.

They were not perfect. They never would be. With Emily, there would have been a hand-fasting with some elements of his Lutheran upbringing and someday, parties just like this one. Mary was hesitant enough about commitment without throwing marriage and children into the mix. But that was Mary, the Mary he’d fallen in love with years ago. They were still new at this. They didn’t need to plan for forever right away. They just needed to be together.

A tug at his pant leg caught his attention and he looked down to see Elizabeth hold up one hand (the other was tightly attached to his leg.) “You want up?” She nodded and he scooped her into his arms. His baby girl. One of the dumbest moments of his life had given him this miracle. Elizabeth wrapped one arm around his neck and rested her head down on his shoulder. She smelled so good – of the baby shampoo Amy preferred and that soft, sweet smell that all babies seemed to have. His little replacement on this earth. Another touch at his back and Mary was there, her arm around his waist this time. He leaned against her and smiled.

Yes. This was good.

“I think the kids are getting restless for cake,” Amy said with a grin.

“Cake?” Mary perked up.

Elizabeth raised her head off Marshall’s shoulder and grinned a wide, five-toothed grin. Marshall laughed until Mary easily swept his daughter out of his arms and walked toward the kitchen, telling her stories. About him.

“And then, you see, your daddy, even though he’d been shot, put a bullet into one of the idiots who tried to kill him. You daddy, it’s true, is superman.”

Marshall’s breath caught in his throat. Mary turned back and met his eyes.

And smiled.


End file.
